


It's the Mead Talking

by NilesDaughter



Series: Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drunk Inquisitor, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14406303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NilesDaughter/pseuds/NilesDaughter
Summary: After a night drinking with the Chargers, Elera has some trouble getting up to her quarters.





	It's the Mead Talking

Elera Lavellan was not the biggest fan of alcoholic beverages. Whilst most of the men under her charge looked forward to the nights they could drown themselves in mead and ale, she never quite understood the appeal.

However, that was not to say that she never drank. It was usually hardest to abstain from alcohol whenever she was in the company of the Bull’s Chargers, especially when The Iron Bull himself almost always pushed a tankard into her hands. And it was usually a tankard that was nearly the size of her face.

It was on one of the few nights that she ignored her dislike of alcohol and let go of her inhibitions about maintaining her Inquisitor persona. The usual night crowd of the Herald’s Rest had finally dwindled, the candles set throughout the tavern dwindling to their last few hours of light. Feeling as she were back on a ship crossing the Waking Sea, Elera pulled herself away from the bar and slowly began to stagger back to her quarters.

Which was a feat in and of itself. It was honestly a miracle that she didn’t fall off the stone steps up to the keep.

Elera did end up pausing just inside of the great double doors, however, listing a little to the side. She caught herself against the stone wall, and closed her eyes, a small groan slipping past her lips. What part of her brain that remained coherent was having serious regrets about drinking so much.

“...Inquisitor?”

She lifted her head, and blinked a little at whomever was standing in front of her. Solas’ face finally came into better focus, his brows drawn together in mild confusion.

“ _Vhenan_ …” she mumbled, pushing against the wall to try to right herself and not look as pathetic as she thought she must look.

He tilted his head, his expression more quizzical than concerned. “Have you been drinking?”

“Bull an’ Krem found sssome mead,” she confirmed, nearly tipping over again. “‘M just going up to my room now.”

Solas shook his head at the mention of The Iron Bull - the two of them did not agree most of the time - and finally stepped towards Elera. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and leaned in a little, trying to catch her gaze. “I would advise against that, _ma vhenan_. It’s astonishing that you made it this far without injury.”

“Oh, bugger off,” she huffed, trying to shrug him off.

His grip tightened for a few moments before relaxing. “You still have to make it up to your quarters, which are several flights of steps above us. What you really need is to lie down. Preferably sooner rather than later.” He then started to steer her towards the rotunda.

The room still smelled of fresh paint, as if Solas had been adding to his ever-growing mural rather than sleeping.

Elera closed her eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath as Solas continued to corral her towards the loveseat that was pushed up against one of the still-blank walls. Once she was seated, Solas settled in beside her. He opened his mouth, perhaps to scold her, but paused when she rested her head on his shoulder.

“D’you ever sleep?” she murmured.

“Of course. I simply do so at atypical hours.”

She laughed slightly. “You never stop workin’.”

His expression softened. “If there is anyone that never stops working, it is you, _vhenan_.”

“‘M not workin’ now,” she pointed out before letting out a rather squeaky hiccup.

Solas laughed once, and reached up to brush a strand of auburn hair out of her face. “You should rest, _vhenan_.”

Elera reached up and intertwined her fingers with his, meeting his gaze. “Only if you stay with me.”

“Of course,” he promised, voice soft.

* * *

“Mmnnn...How drunk was I?” Elera groaned, holding her pounding head between her hands as she sat hunched in the loveseat in the half-painted rotunda.

Solas seemed amused despite himself. “Very.”

“I need to stop letting Bull talk me into drinking contests,” she sighed.

“Perhaps,” he mused, rubbing his hand along her shoulder blades in a circular motion. “Shall we request tea be sent up from the kitchens?”

“Perhaps in a bit…” After a moment, she glanced up at Solas apologetically. “I’m sorry for my behavior.”

“It was manageable. All you wanted was a chance to sleep.”

“At least I didn’t embarrass myself.”

Solas’ lips quirked a bit in amusement, and he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to her temple. “At least.”

“ _Ar lath, ma vhenan_ ,” Elera murmured.

“And I you.”


End file.
